


The End is Where we Begin

by voices_in_my_head



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: 52 weeks challenge, death mention, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voices_in_my_head/pseuds/voices_in_my_head
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Afterlife is where many are reunited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End is Where we Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for week 4: a story of 3 siblings. In this case Crixus, Agron and Spartacus... Kind of? I don't know. I've been rewatching it for the past week so there you have it.

Thoughts and memories came and went. One day Crixus would awake with blood upon his hands and screams on his ears, look sideways and find Naevia and many others in similar state. Others, Naeva stood untouched and he a gladiator.

The Afterlife was many things. Strange was but one of them.

He saw many of the people he had lived and fought side by.

Gannicus walked around with the same sway, his laughter just as roistering as it had been in life. But now he stood straighter and happier. The cause was obvious to anyone with eyes. Oenamaus and Mellitta could always be seen by side.

Diona always appeared a vision, happy and bright as if touched by sun. Many were the people that walked with her. Yet, she never turned from going to Naevia, whether it was a good or a bad day.

Rhaskos remained unchanged. A fighter, whether there was a cause or not.

Donar was calmer. Many times he told the tale of his death, unaware, or simply uncaring, of shaking heads. Many more times he laughed and said he had taken his life because of the fear of surviving and having witness Agron and his jealousy for his remaining days.

Agron… perhaps the only one of the Brotherhood who had survived. He had fought by his side when he had no need of. They had not always seen eye to eye. Of that, everyone around them had been able to tell. Yet, they had stood as brothers. Agron had proved himself a gladiator and then a warrior many times over. Many had deserved a rested life, yet if only a few were to have it, Crixus stood glad that Agron was one of them.

Brothers… he saw many come and go. Barca always had a man on his arm, whether Pietros or Auctus. Sometimes the three of them laughed together. Sometimes blood dripped from wounds too deep for even the afterlife to wash away.

Lugo and Saxa laughed at everyone, screaming in their own language. Crixus too responded with his own words, long forgotten in the ludus but that now returned to him.

As did people he had thought to never see again. A mother whose embrace he had long forgotten the touch, a father whose voice he had not heard in many, many moons. A sister, small the last time he had seen her, yet now a woman. They told of two brothers, still breathing, and with their own families now.

The world of the living could not always be reached through the veil, yet sometimes it parted to give way to fast images.

Agron and Nasir with a goat farm and oh, how he had laughed at the sight. Both Sibyl and Laeta had given birth to gladiators’ sons. Crixus regretted the chances taken by Roman’s sword. Never would he know the love of a child. Never would he see Naevia’s hair grow grey and wrinkles grace her face. Yet, he did not regret the choices he had made.

The Romans still stood, but he knew they would not always do so. They had fought for something and many had taken their cause, and so continued, even if with just whispers and passing looks. They too had started as such and in the end had stood an army.

They had fallen, but it had been a full life.

Spartacus too seemed of similar thought. He walked always accompanied. By Sura, the woman who had started everything and who stood just as described. Not a thousand Roman lives could ever equal her. Mira stood by him sometimes. With a small and almost childish smile always gracing her lips, yet with a hard glint in her eyes too. Varro walked among them, blond curls always calling attention.

There were many he saw day in and day out, yet there were many more he did not. Crixus not always remembered the Romans, yet when he did he wondered. Never did he set eyes upon red hair or fairer skin than any slave would ever have.

Sometimes he wished for it to be different. He did not know what words would part his lips if such an occasion came to pass, yet he still wished for. But not every day. Most days passed without such memories.

He had died surrounded by brothers and sisters and now he lived the same.

Not all among him, yet slowly they came to be.

It took Agron many years, yet he too one day came to join them. He stood curved, with hands that had worked much over the moons and which now did not move as they once had. His hair was long and grey and his skin marred by the life he had lived, under the sun and taking care of a farm. Yet, he stood there still and calm, being welcomed into the arms of the Afterlife by all that had loved and left him.

Duro had been the first and tears had flown, as had words in their own language. Perhaps it was for the best Crixus never knew their meaning, if they led to Saxa shedding tears as well.

Spartacus had taken his place afterwards, touching their foreheads and then introducing Sura, which had been welcomed with open arms, as if she a lost sister stood. It was not far from the truth. Spartacus’ tales had always painted a lively picture of the woman that had stolen his heart.

Crixus has approached slowly.

Agron sent him a smile, when seeing him. “By Gods, not even in death do I see myself away from piss and shit.”

Crixus slapped him on the shoulder. “As you were born there, I would assume you were used to the stench.”

Agron had laughed at that, while Duro had come to defence of beloved homeland. Spartacus had simply shaken head, but he too smiled.

The Afterlife was many things. Yet unjust was not one of them. Slowly brothers and sisters were reunited. Different as they had been left, yet such a bond could never be broken.

 


End file.
